


Say Cheese

by TheSmallTownGirl



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow), kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmallTownGirl/pseuds/TheSmallTownGirl
Summary: Keris and Trixie invite Baz on a double date with them. The only problem is that he only wants to ask one person in particular on the date...
Relationships: Keris/Trixie (Simon Snow), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 117





	Say Cheese

****Bunce’s roommate (the _pixie_ ) has somehow found me and cornered me in the corridors with her girlfriend Keris for some reason unknown to me, and I think I’d like to sink into the ground right about now. The pixie is all too friendly and I’m not sure what’s wrong with her girlfriend. (Something I’m bloody _sure_ \- why else would she be dating the pixie?)

She approaches me with a tooth rotting smile and I’d like to smite her right then and there. (She reminds me of Snow, when he’s not looking at me. _Tooth rottingly_ happy.) “Hey, Baz! So Keris and I were talking and we were thinking that maybe it’d be nice to-” Keris puts her hand on the Pixie’s arm gently, and gives her a small smile. _Disgusting_. I spit in the face of love. (That is, unless it were with Simon. But it’s _not_ , so it’s all rubbish.)

“I’ve got this babe,” Keris whispers in the pixie’s ear. Then she turns to me, all business, no smile. (Perhaps she’s alright.) “Basil, you’re coming on a double date with Trixie and I,” I open my mouth to spew profanities such as _I’d rather shove a fork up my arse_ (though that’s not quite good form), but she holds a hand up to stop me. “Non-negotiable. Find a bloke to take with you. We’ll see you tomorrow night, mate.” And then they bloody walk off. (Is it _that_ obvious that I’m gay? Well. I s’pose when you’re as good looking as me, it’d be right obvious.)

Quite weird, that. I’ll have to ask a bloke on a date. The only one I’d _like_ to ask is unfortunately my roommate as well as grossly heterosexual. Not to mention the _hating-my-guts_ part. I’m sure I could find a good bloke to take; Crowley knows I have options. But what do I do when the only option I _need_ isn’t an option at all? Well. Then I suppose I’ll have to give him a proposition he can’t refuse.

…

“Snow, I’ve got to ask you something,” I try my damnedest to seem bored and uninterested. Especially when he perks up like a dog. Like I’ve _gifted_ him with a conversation that’s not bickering. Soon, however, he frowns.

“How did I get so daft? Well-”

“No, Snow, not that. I wanted to know-”

“Why I’m the Chosen One. Well I dunno that eith-”

“ _Snow_. Do us a favor and shut your bloody mouth before I shut it for you. Let me ask my question, dolt.” He goes to say something else but I shoot him a look and he grumbles, but stays quiet. (It’s hard to get him to stop talking _ever_. Unless I’ve made him cry. Then he doesn’t talk at all, and I don’t ever know which is worse.)

I take a breath in. A breath out. I say, “Keris and the pixie-”

“ _Trixie,_ arsehole-” I glare at him.

“Keris and _Trixie_ have asked me to… go on a _date_ with them. I’m not in the position to say _no_ , so I was _wondering_ if perhaps-” His eyes go wide, and I think for a moment he’s seen a scone.

“ _You_ want _me_ to help you find a girl?” I lift an eyebrow (I know it riles him up) and roll my eyes. (It’s a gift.)

“Well seeing as I’m _gay_ , Snow,”

“Oh.” He says. Then, “So you want me to help you find… a _bloke_?” Right. So not homophobic then. Good, that. Makes this whole mess a bit easier, at least.

“Still no. I was thinking, if we made a- a _deal_ , of sorts, if…” I trail off, because _Merlin_ I know he’s daft but is he really going to make me say it? When it becomes bloody apparent that he really is right dead from the neck up, I heave a big sigh and prepare myself for the inevitable heartbreak I’ve been waiting seven years for. I cross my arms in front of my chest, as if I could hold myself together when I break down. (As if only I were capable of fixing myself from the mess Snow leaves me.) “If _you_ would go with me,” Then, for added incentive, I choke out, “please.” He blinks at me only twice before responding. (I thought his brain didn’t process that quickly.)

“Oh- _oh_. Right, well. Um, er- what kind of deal?” _Asfbadoindosufboaidkjboihfoan._ I think perhaps this is what it feels like to malfunction at the hands of Simon Snow. Here I was, thinking it would be his sword that kills me. I suppose his words are the next best thing.

If I had recently eaten, I’d surely be flushed in more than one place. I’m not sure, however, which direction the blood would go. “I’d um,” I tug at my collar and clear my throat. When did I have to start _thinking_ about breathing? “Bake you scones? For a week.” He thinks about it for a moment.

“Two weeks,” His jaw is set and he seems nervous, but confident alike- like we’re making some sort of illegal transaction. (I’m not sure we’re _not_ , really.)

“Done.” He looks me up and down, and nothing - not a meteor, not the mage, not my father, not even the Humdrum himself - could distract me from the way his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down. (I’m anxiously waiting to wake up. But even if I do, I know I’d force myself back asleep. Anything to stay in this dream for as long as possible.)

“Right. Erm. When?”

“Tomorrow night, Snow. Think you can handle it?” I turn my head the way I know he despises. There’s the spark in his eyes like there always is at a challenge. He’s never been good at them; always bloody explodes in the end. But it never stops the wreck. Exactly why I love him. Exactly why I _hate_ him.

I don’t think I’m wrong in the assumption that this spark is the reason he says “Easy… _love_.” I think the room is spinning. This is my cue to gracefully retreat to the catacombs. (I’m anything but graceful as I stumble out the door, drunk on the way Simon said _love_. Drunk on Simon himself, more likely.)

…

I think perhaps the tosser is _trying_ to kill me. He’s doing a right effective job of it, too. He didn’t have anything _proper_ to wear, so I lent him a grey suit of mine that’s too small on me, now. He’s _dashing_. And I’m fairly certain that when he kills me, I want him to be wearing this. At least I’d go out with a view. (He’d requested I wear my hair not slicked back tonight. I tried not to think too much of it, and then proceeded to think solely about it for the next twenty four hours.)

From Mummers, we walked to The Cloisters to greet Keris and Trixie. When we got there, they had said we looked like a ‘ _cute couple_.’ I’ve half a mind to curse them in their sleep or get them flowers. Not sure which quite yet.

Keris and Trixie had planned for us to go to a restaurant to eat, which is why I’m bloody _baffled_ when we end up strolling around a park right outside the Watford Campus. It’s… _nice_ , in some lights, I suppose. ( _Especially_ because since Snow and I decided we were to be fake boyfriends, we’re holding hands. His are terribly, beautifully warm, just like the rest of his existence.) I do, however, resent the fact that the dirt is probably _ruining_ my dress shoes. But I’d ruin _everything_ I own to hold Snow’s hand again. To be this _close_ to him again. We’ve not spoken much, but just his presence - his shoulder bumping into mine, his hand squeezing mine - feels like a conversation. Surprisingly, it hasn’t been as awkward as I had thought it would be. We’ve mostly just spoken to the girls and strolled around.

“OH!” Trixie is louder than Snow, which is a feat I had previously not thought attainable. “Look, look! That tree over there is just _perfect_ ,” The tree she points at is nothing spectacular. I’m vastly disappointed in her taste of trees. “We _have_ to take a picture!” She tugs a begrudging Keris along with her, and Snow pulls me along with him.

“Snow, what’re-”

He looks back at me, a smile on his face, and I think I’ll likely combust. “We’re taking a picture, _darling_ ,” (Someone send help. Resuscitate me. There’s no air outside.) “C’mon, Baz. It’ll be fun!”

“ _Snow_ -” He frowns and I want to throw myself into the moat with the rest of the scum in this world.

“We’re _dating_. You’ve got to, um. Call me _Simon…_ please.” I’d like so dreadfully badly to scream _no_ at his face; and say that it feels too intimate. But he’s standing there with this purely _Simon Snow look_ , and if I _ever_ say no to that, I’d like someone to burn me alive.

“Fine. _Simon_ ,” His face lights up. (I wish I could make his face light up like that _every_ day. That we could go on _real_ dates. That I wouldn’t have to pay him in _scones_ to be with me. But if this is all I’ll ever get… I’ll take it.) “Do we have to?” He nods so hard I think maybe his head will pop off. (Unfortunately, it doesn’t.)

“Yep! C’mon, love!” He drags me staggering behind him. (The way he said love. _This time_ it felt… authentic. I never pegged Snow to be such a good actor.)

We take a few pictures of Keris and Trixie before they take the camera from us and make us stand in front of the tree. Without warning, Snow _jumps on my bloody back_ and I’ve nothing to thank except for my vampirism that keeps me on my feet. He nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck and we smile at the camera. (This smile, I don’t have to fake. I can feel every part of Snow on my back and around my chest and torso and _I’m going to smell like a fire for the rest of my life because I’m never bathing again_.)

“Okay, give us a kiss on the cheek, babes!” Keris laughs. And since I know Snow is going to be uncomfortable with it, _I’m_ the one to turn to kiss him on the cheek. _But then I’m not the only one turning_. Because _apparently_ the world can’t stop _fucking_ torturing me. Simon has turned too, just as I turn, and since both our eyes are closed we don’t see it coming when _both of our bloody lips touch._ I’m almost certain the whole world freezes and the Earth stops spinning. While I’m frozen still, he is too. But then- _oh but then._ He keeps pressing forward, and I do the same, because who am I to ignore Simon Snow?

 _And then the fucker opens his mouth and I think I’ve never experienced something so terrible and so lovely at the same time._ I think maybe I’m dying. This is what dying feels like, I’m sure of it. It’s just as terrible and wonderful as I had always imagined it. I open my mouth, too. He does this _lovely_ thing with his jaw and- _agifubsilufdbla!!!_

We only spring apart (Simon nearly falls flat on his arse when we do) when we hear the click of the camera. I look at the girls and Keris has her mouth hanging open while Trixie is shrieking with laughter. I’m avoiding eye contact with Simon at all bloody costs. (He should do plays, because his acting is bloody _perfect_. So perfect I almost forgot it wasn’t real. Fuck it- I _did_ forget. And now I remember and want to run away again.)

We start walking down the path again, and instead of avoiding me, Simon takes my hand again. This time, he interlaces our fingers and rubs my hand absentmindedly with his thumb. But- the girls wouldn’t even _notice_ that, so why do it? (Before he took my hand, I made sure to subtly tell Keris I wanted those photos. I think I might frame them.) I ask him as much.

“ _Simon_ , why?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Why what?” I bring our hands up and gesture to them with my head. He just shrugs ( _made_ of shrugs, he is) and puts our hands back. (I notice he flushes red, but I don’t point it out. I’m too afraid he’ll let my hand go and stop rubbing circles. I’m not quite ready for that, yet.)

We all walk and then drive back in silence. When we get to Cloisters to drop the girls off, Trixie turns to me. Simon lets go of my hand and allows me to stiffly hug her, but she keeps my close and whispers in my ear. “We know you guys aren’t _really_ dating, Baz. But… maybe you should try.” When she pulls back she winks at me, and for the first time in a long time, I’m left standing with my mouth open. (Which, I’m sure, is not nearly as attractive as when Simon does it.)

We begin the walk back to Mummers, and even though the girls aren’t with us anymore, I feel Simon’s hand slip into mine.

Perhaps the pixie was right.


End file.
